


Vertigoberries

by EtincelleDOR



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:50:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtincelleDOR/pseuds/EtincelleDOR
Summary: Lance's plan to bump into Allura under the mistletoe backfires when she finds herself underneath it with Lotor instead.Sometime between Oriande and the Rift. Christmas Lotura fluff because Season 8...





	Vertigoberries

* * *

 

 

No one has really done a very good job of explaining to her exactly what this Christmas malarkey is.

It all started a few vargas ago when Lance was fiddling around with his station console, a bored expression plastered on his face. Allura’s patience with him had worn thin, particularly when Lotor had come aboard the Castle, not as a prisoner, but as her guest. Her guest, not theirs. Although she would be the first to admit that dedicating their full trust to Lotor was something she thought it particularly unwise to do, at first. Forging a positive relationship with him was essential if she ever hoped to end this war without further bloodshed, and of all the Galra that could have won the throne, Lotor was certainly a preferable victor to Sendak or Throk.

She hadn’t liked Lotor at first. And she was by far and away the best judge of character on the Castle. He had a way of weaving you into his words with his charm, she noticed, and was far too good at using it to to his advantage. Two could play that game, she thought. Let him show how clever he is, and we will know more about what we are up against. Every so often, she would challenge him back, just to remind him who he was dancing with. His eyes would flash with something resembling sheer thrill. She had to concede, he was decidedly brilliant. And not at all, who she had thought he was.

Amazingly, being half-Altean meant something to Zarkon’s son. He put on a politician’s mask to conceal the joy being chosen gave him, but his disappointment on their return from Oriande was tangible. She comforted him as much as she dared, a gentle hand on his shoulder, a warm smile. It wouldn’t be polite to imply weakness on his part. But it wasn’t long before his sadness subsided, as did his superficial attempts to charm her, and the hardness in his gaze.

And the touch of his hand against hers began to send a shiver right through her...

Allura shook the thought from her head violently the moment it arose. They were political allies, and that was it. She didn’t need any of that, especially not from him.

“What do you think it’s like at home right now?” Lance quips, “I bet the President hasn’t invited Putin over for tea.”

The other paladins evidently did not share her change of heart regarding Lotor. Not entirely at least. She had insisted on good behaviour from all of them, but so far, only Shiro and Hunk had paid much attention to her requests. Allura has no idea what ‘the president’ is, but Lance’s meaning is embarrassingly clear. He, on the other hand, had been in a league of his own, and if Coran hadn’t been the one to lead him out of a couple of conversations with a pinch on his ear, Allura had gladly been the one to do it herself.

A distinct growl in her throat, having walked onto the bridge only ticks before, she is milli-moments away from yet another tight grip on his ear, when Pidge cuts in, typing a few keys into her dashboard screen as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “93% humidity, 17mph winds, with a 98% chance of precipitation and highs of seven degrees celsius. And yes, the President did meet Putin for tea in 2015.”

“Wow, you made that sound positively awful.”

“I can’t believe we’re missing out on Christmas dinner this year!” Hunk’s stomach groans in protest, “There’s nothing like it in the whole world!”

Shiro, who has managed to feign disinterest in this conversation so far, his brow furrowed in concentration over the latest data stream from the teleduv that they were all meant to be processing, gave a small reflecting smile.

“Surely you could whip something up in the kitchen Hunk? You managed to make those stem tubers the Arusians sent us edible.”

“Well yeah,” Hunk shrugs, “But it’s really not the same without a tree. Or tinsel. Or lights.” He inhales loudly in excitement, “Or crackers!”

“Of all the things, Hunk.”

“I’m not familiar with this, Earth vocabulary.” Allura says, “What are you referring to?”

“It’s an Earth holiday thing, Princess.” says Shiro, “That I’m not sure we’ve got time for in light of recent events.”

“Oh, oh, can we decorate the Castle Princess?” says Lance, who seems to have perked up a little, “We could go back to that Mall? We could decorate Kaltenecker!”

Pidge throws him an unimpressed glance. “We are an awfully long way away from any space vets, Lance.”

Her scepticism hasn’t deterred him however, and Lance can barely contain himself. “We could do Christmas!!!”

A little grin appears on her face. If Lance could find some distraction that wasn’t launching the Galra Emperor straight out of the northmost airlock, that was fine by her.

“I’m sure we could grant them some respite Shiro, just for a few hours.” She says, “Take Coran with you.”

 

* * *

 

 

It may just have been the worst idea she’s ever had.

When she and Lotor walk onto the bridge a few vargas later, they are almost blinded by bright colourful LEDs strewn across every wall and every surface that would have looked more at home in the swap moon red-light districts. Pidge seems to be creating a precariously balanced concoction with what appear to be clothes airers and coat hangers, Lance is doing battle with a roll of tape and colourful paper, and there is sparkly material draped over the workstations with reckless abandon. If she finds anything shiny missing from the teleduv, she swears to the Sages she will murder them.

_“What the quiznak is this…?”_

Lotor says nothing, seeming more bewitched than surprised, his eyes wide in fascination as they take slow steps towards the bridge.

“Princess!” Coran calls, a length of red sparkly plastic wrapped around his neck like a scarf. “What do you make of the earthling festivities? At first I thought it might give away our position but now I’m really getting quite into it!”

Allura holds the palms of her hands out in despair. “I, I gave you permission to hang a few flowers, sing a few ballads! This, this is just... Wow…”

“No flowers here Princess, although I’m told the ballads are yet to come.”

The first inkling Allura has that she’s being silently watched is Hunk’s big cheesy grin from across the room, his arms wrapped around two large brown paper bags.

“Nawww that’s so cute! Look at you two under the mistletoe!”

Allura’s eyes slowly drift upwards towards a bunch of a pointy-leaved blue-berried plant dangling from a piece of string a few feet above their heads.

“I think you’ll find you’re mistaken there Hunk.” Coran pipes up, “Those are the aptly-named vertigoberries from the vast desert planes of the planet Nabraxis. One single berry, will have you throwing up like a _firehose_!”

Pidge throws him an irritated glance from her cross-legged position on the floor. “It’s the nearest thing we could find. Lance, what are you…”

Lance’s face has turned an embarrassing shade of red, and they could practically see the steam exploding from his ears. “Allura! Come away from there right now!!”

“What? Why?” she blinks.

Shiro chuckles gently to himself as he loops a train of coloured lights over his console. “It’s an Earth tradition, Princess. Ignore them.”

“I am unfamiliar with this particular Earth tradition.” Lotor says, peering up at the blue berries of the mistletoe substitute, “Although I understand the lights and the…” he glances at Pidge’s tower of laundry dryers and coat hangers, “arboreal arrangement, are alluding to Christmas?”

Allura throws him a surprised look. “You know why they’re covering my bridge in garish paraphernalia?”

“Not exactly.” He says. “I believe it originated as a celebration of the birth of an Earth deity. Although quite how it ended up like this is anyone’s guess.”

“Excuse me! It took us a long time to source this ‘paraphernalia’!” Lance huffs.

“These days it’s mostly about the consumerism.” Pidge interjects, “But it’s also a time for family and those close to you.”

Lance frowns. “But _not_ for our mortal Galra enemies. So Allura I beg you, _plea_ _se_ come out from under the vertigoberries.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t put them there in the first place.” Pidge says, her arms folded across her chest.

“Hey-!”

Allura is about to lose patience with the lot of them. “Will someone please tell me what the significance of the quiznacking vertigoberries is?”

“On Earth, there is a Christmas tradition of hanging mistletoe in houses.” Shiro explains, “And if two people find themselves underneath a mistletoe branch, they are meant to kiss each other.”

Lotor’s brow rises in sheer entertainment. “Is that so?”

“The Ancient Romans believed that kissing under the mistletoe symbolised peace, friendship and love.” Said Pidge, “So you know, none of the things we were expecting anytime soon.”

“No no no no no! You can’t! You-” Lance spits, “It’s really not that big of a tradition, kinda dated, more like a cult ritual-Ow!!!!”

Shiro’s fist plunging into Lance’s shoulder knocks the air out of his lungs.

“So what you’re saying is I have to kiss whosoever I meet underneath, this, sprig?”

“What Lance is trying to say is that it really isn’t compulsory, Princess.” Shiro clarifies.

“Listen, just…” her lips form a sealed line, she takes a deep breath and counts to three, trying to will away the blush on her cheeks. Lotor eyes her with suspicion, shifting his weight away from her as if he is worried she might explode, “If I kiss Lotor under the vertigoberries, will it shut you all up?”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

“Actually it might give Lance a seizure…”

Lotor leans down and whispers into Allura’s ear. His breath is hot against her skin and his voice is smooth like silk, and she feels her face heat up even more. “If the little blue one had a seizure it would make my day.”

She screws her eyes shut and nurses her forehead with her palm. “You all won’t mind if I seek some intelligent conversation with the mice?”

 

* * *

 

 

Only late into the cycle, does Allura reappear on the bridge, after everything but the gentle bleeping of the oxygen metres and the whir of the engines – sounds you would struggle to notice during the day cycle - had fallen silent. The decorative lights glow gently from all around her, basking her in an ethereal warmth that was almost relaxing.

None of them have finished processing the teleduv data, she sees, and sighs. Coran had spent the best part of a day tangled up in its maintenance panel trying to optimise its performance. A technological failure now would be disastrous. Resting a palm to her station amongst the dimmed coloured lights, Allura has come to realise that if you want an incredibly boring job done, you have to do it yourself.

The mice had consoled her a little, as, she admitted, had Hunk’s ‘Christmas’ dinner. While the conversation regarding Hunk’s poor substitutes for turkey, parsnips and other delicacies Allura had never heard of was somewhat dry, the food most certainly wasn’t. She had retired to her quarters shortly after, despite Lance's persistent protests that she join them for games.

She supposed she could see the appeal of the festivity, the lights, the food, and the sense of family, something about it all made her feel warm, cared about.

But there was work to do.

Her eyes lost in the reems of data of her station screen, Allura barely notices the southmost doors opening behind her.

“Good evening, Princess.”

Allura whips around with a relieved smile at the familiar voice whose company she had begun to enjoy.

“Emperor Lotor,” she says, only just remembering to address him by his formal style. She supposed it was only proper if they were going to be allies, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He is poised and elegant, even at this late varga, his hands clasped lightly behind his back as he reaches her side. “I merely wished to offer my sincerest apologies for my earlier remark, Princess.” he says, “I meant no offence.”

Lotor looks down at the floor in a mild respectful embarrassment. His comment regarding Lance, whilst light-hearted, was rather forward in its implication of a desire that at times, Lotor almost couldn’t contain. In any case, an assumption that she could ever feel the same was unfair. Noticing that he has been breath-holding, he forces some air into his lungs. He couldn’t remember when exactly she had seeped through his pores and paralysed him from the inside out, holding him back from an abyss of darkness that he was more than ready to step into. Suddenly he couldn’t use her anymore. He couldn’t hurt her. They wanted the same things, she could make them happen, he had no doubt. She was everything he wanted for this reality, everything that was good and bright and strong. She was the one hope for the universe.

_If she only knew how he..._

Lotor bites his lip hard, inwardly hissing at the pain, but it did nothing to soothe the ache deep inside him. He had learned the unbearable way that nothing but pain and suffering came to those he cared for. Lotor’s fists curl so tightly that fresh pain claws at his senses, but still it is nothing in comparison.

His father is dead, and cannot hurt anyone anymore.

“Rest assured I take no offence on Lance’s behalf.” She says, turning a watchful eye back to her screen, her hands moving like magic through the air over its controls.

“That’s good to hear.” He says, relieved.

Allura peers over her shoulder at Lotor, but he is no longer concentrating on her, rather his eyes are gazing upwards, and when hers follow, she feels her breath hitch in her body as she sees the vertigoberries, moved from their previous position, hanging not a few feet above her head. Damn Lance, how did he even get them up there? Thank the Ancients he had clearly gotten bored waiting for her, she might have throttled him on the spot. _But Lotor..._ Her gaze drifts back down to him, his face, somehow more handsome to her over time, is pensive in the soft light, his ears lax, his eyes wide and curious. Allura can feel a dizzying heat stirring inside her.

“What did Pidge say it symbolises?”

_His father is dead._

“Peace, and friendship, and love.”

Lotor lifts a hand to her cheek, his fingers cup her face delicately as if he is asking her permission, as if he is afraid he might break her, or as if he expects her to slap him away.

She doesn't.

She doesn't want to.

Her hand finds its way to his, her fingers entwining with his.

Lotor closes his eyes and delicately presses his forehead to hers, his arms encircling her tightly, his fingers tracing a wandering line down her cheek to her neck. Allura was suddenly catapulted back to the etiquette lessons of her youth, to when she used to sit and giggle over the odd customs of far away planets, while her governesses shook their heads in dismay. The Galra were not a people to confuse intimacy with affection, she remembered, but this was so different. As Lotor holds her in his arms, his flustered breath warming her cheeks, she knew what it meant. The Galra touched foreheads as a simple gesture of utmost dedication and respect to a mate. She raises the flat of her palm to his chest and feels him shudder beneath her, his physiology betraying him hopelessly as she wraps an arm around his waist and draws him against her. 

" _Allura_..." he whispers, her name falling form his lips like a plea rather than a simple noun.

Ancients, how has he become so very dear to her?

" _Lotor?_ "

Lotor is all asking, his breath heaving and his eyes large in wonder as he leans down and kisses her softly. The sensation knocks the air from her body and sends tingling electric sparks right to her fingertips and oh, this feels good. She has tried desperately to ignore the way he made her feel. The Galra prince with a gentle heart, forged through a fire and suffering that just maybe, she can help him forget.

Any minute, she thinks, they should stop, straighten themselves off and comport themselves like the leaders they are, but she can’t. She feels her own heart thud in her ears as she finds herself easing into him even more. The pleasure of each and every kiss and touch heightens and winds tortuously, she kisses him completely breathless, her fingers tangling into his hair and she lets out a gasp as he nips at her lip.

His body is warm and strong and she finds herself wanting to touch him more and more as their lips begin to bruise. Her hands ease down his chest to his toned abdomen, a small blissful moan rumbles from deep inside his throat, and she is sure that it is the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.

Entirely out of oxygen, they fall apart in a delirious haze, her arms now firmly around his neck in fear that her knees might buckle as she settles her head peacefully into the crook of his neck. 

Maybe it _is_ possible.

_Maybe..._

As her world turns in the dim Christmas lights, Allura smiles into his warm embrace.

“Maybe I’ll let them keep the vertigoberries a little longer…”


End file.
